Saturday Morning Soundtrack -- "Diner" by Martin Sexton

By this point, you know the deal--our rock and roll literature class is over, but it doesn't mean the music has to stop. Once a week, I'll be taking some time to enjoy great music and offering up my thoughts. I'm no critic--just a guy who likes rock music in all its forms. This week in the Saturday Morning Soundtrack series I'm looking at a song I've had on my iPod for quite some time but had forgotten about.

---

"Diner" -- Martin Sexton (1995)

Have had this song in my back pocket for years now, and for whatever reason, today just felt like a good day to feature it in the Soundtrack. Is it rock music--sure, why not? We're not too picky, right? More importantly--it's good music, a fun song to sing along to (and though my dancing days are pretty well behind me, I imagine it's a fun one to get down to, as well). 

What I enjoy most about this song is the way it grounds itself in a specific place--a diner. I love diners! They're these unassuming little social hubs where the food is usually good (and plentiful and cheap) and all the locals meet. As such they are a great place to people watch. They're also great for stepping outside of yourself--you go in, order your cup of coffee and your scrambled eggs (Adam and Eve on a raft, and wreck 'em!), make chit-chat, and in that hour window or so, you're part of a small and simple community that exists outside of the rest of your life. In other words, you're a regular.

Sexton captures that feel perfectly with his folk scat about the Little Gem Diner off route 690 in New York (where he claims to have written many of his songs) and all those other Mom-n'-Pops across the Eastern Seaboard: "You may find a diner down in Georgia or Carolina / off the twenty by the Piggly Wiggly / In the country out of Waynesboro." 

It's a vivid image with all that shiny chrome and molded Bakelite, the Formica counters and the terrazzo floors, the leather padded stools and the plastic high-backed booths. And it's one that I find myself returning to frequently in my own writing, especially in my novel Hungry Town:

Darla stood in the rain and watched the rusty Grand Marquis pull away from the curb before turning to face the truck stop diner. An oversized sign swept from its roof like the fins on a classic Caddy, vertical neon letters casting a pink shimmer on everything below—her tweed coat, the wet sidewalk, the windshields of two semi cabs parked front and center in the otherwise empty lot. She’d been lost in a disturbing daydream, one that lingered close and threatened to resurface whenever she let her mind idle, and she examined her reflection in the glinting chrome, her body warped and swirling with the pink from the sign and the yellow from the large security lights. Discolored like an oil slick. Or a bruise. . . . [Inside,] Darla slipped her coat off her shoulders and eased a finger beneath the elastic bandage on her wrist and scratched. She forced a smile at the men on the other end of the counter. There was something enduring about the little diner with its chrome napkin and sugar dispensers and its dark paneled walls, a stable feeling—as though it’d passed the test of time and come out unchanged. A pivoting floor fan blew the thick smell of fried food around the room, and it was warm and quiet enough to hear the sizzling of the stainless steel griddle, the kind of place where people came not to speak but to eat and maybe read the paper. 

In fact, the novel's climax takes place in that very same diner about 300 pages later. Pretty cool!

So, if you get the chance this sunny summer weekend, go hit up your local diner, take in a long breakfast, and on your way, dial up Martin Sexton on your iPod or on Pandora et al., and give this little gem a listen.

---

Love the song? Hate it? Have thoughts to share? Please, feel free to leave a message in the comments below. And, if you would like to write a Guest Entry for the "Saturday Morning Soundtrack" series where you creatively respond to one of your favorite rock songs, don't hesitate to contact me with queries.